The Rising of Davy Jones
by Adela H
Summary: Intrigued by the love story between Davy Jones and Tia DalmCalypso, I decided to write a story about how they came to be in love and why Davy Jones cut his heart out.
1. Prologue

**The Rise of Davy Jones**

**Prologue**

_Good evening, and good night, with roses adorned,_

_With carnations covered, slip under the covers._

_Early tomorrow, if God wills, you will wake once again._

_Early tomorrow, if God wills, you will wake once again._

English translation of Brahm's Lullaby

Where do parents come from? A question many children of the God's Grace Orphanage had asked themselves. How do some children have parents and others, like themselves, have not even one? Was it possible that they had just fallen from the sky as babies and were taken in by the institute? Rarely was there a child who could recall having ever had a parent. No memories of a Mother's gentle caress or a Father's playful song.

Many of the children didn't last into puberty for the nights were cold, sharing a blanket between two or three, and living in such close quarters gave rise to epidemics that were fatal and unforgiving. But the Orphanage, being funded by the church, and situated in Liverpool, where there was a plethora of orphans to take in, never worried over such matters. Whenever one child was permanently vacated, another was promptly taken in in their place.

One such epidemic of influenza overtook the institute in the dead of winter. The children's bodies, being too numerous to bury, were carted in the dark of night to the port where a man in a dinghy took them out to see and dumped them for a nominal fee. The next day the doors were opened to more orphans, and among them was David.


	2. Chapter 1

**The Rise of Davy Jones**

**Chapter One**

February is a cold month, especially to one with little clothing and no family to speak of. How the child came to them, no one really knew.

"His name is David," The young woman said, keeping her head hidden behind the scarf that wound its way around her neck and shoulders.

"Does he have no family?" Mary Cuthbert asked, but before she knew what was what the young girl took off down the street and was lost in the fog. Taking a deep sigh Mary looked down at the young thing, no more than four, she assumed, and pursed her lips.

"Who was that?" She asked, nodding her head in the direction the young woman vanished.

The boy did not speak, nor did he move except with the convulsive shivering of his limbs. Shaking her head she grabbed the boy by the shoulders, which felt like ice to her, and ushered him into the sitting room off the entrance. Placing him on a stool in front of the fire, she stoked the wood causing the flames to burst and wood to crackle. She turned to take another look at the boy.

"David, was it?" She asked, hoping to get some response, but her attempt was in vain. "Aye, what has the world come to?"

When Mary Cuthbert gave herself over to the church little did she know she would be placed in this fetid corner of England looking after the illegitimate sons and daughters of the local poor. That was how most the children came to them, tiny bundles wrapped in thin blankets. Rarely did those babies live to see the age of one, but that was the norm anywhere you went. Then there were the children who came to them whose parents were either dead or unable to care for them. This David was just one of many, and she tried not to attach herself to any one of them.

"Stay here and don't touch anything." Mary spoke firmly, knowing the thieving tendencies of many of their wards, but she felt deep down that this was a special case. She turned on the boy and walked down the hall to the Proprietors office. She knocked once and was asked to enter.

"Blast the cold weather!" Mr. Grockle ejaculated as Mary entered. "I don't think we'll make it through this winter, I really don't."

"It is abysmally cold outside today." Mary agreed, stepping into the office which was quite sparse except for Mr. Grockle's desk and a small bookshelf which held more knick-knacks than books and a potbelly stove which leaked smoke. "Another one has been placed at our door step."

Mr. Grockle looked up from the papers he had been reading on his desk, knowing exactly what Mary meant by "another one." He leaned back in his chair and ran his forefinger and thumb up and down the bridge of his nose, a trait he was wont to do when a headache brought on by frustration came to him.

"We have six beds available, do we not Miss Cuthbert?" Mary could tell when he used her surname that the situation was bad.

"Yes, sir, the sixth opened just last night."

It was a sort of code those who worked at the orphanage used. If they thought of the boys as just wards or beds or any other number of euphemisms, it helped with the pain when one of them passed on. It worked most the time.

"And the parents?"

Mary knew this question was coming, "No parents to speak of. Truth be told, he won't speak at all, and neither would the young girl who dropped him off speak much."

Mr. Grockle leaned forward in his chair again and started rifling through the papers on his desk. "Yes, do we have a name?"

"David, sir, was the only one given."

Mr. Grockle dipped his quill in the ink well and began to scratch the name of David onto the paper. "Any other name or information?"

"He looks to be no more than four."

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

"What was the name of the last child, the one...yesterday?"

"Edward Jones, sir."

Mr. Grockle dipped the quill once more and began scratching away. "Young boy, aged four years old, taken by the God's Grace Orphanage on February the thirteenth, name of David Jones. There," He said setting the quill down and allowing the ink on the paper to dry. "That should satisfy the church."

All the while the adults were discussing him in the room down the hall, young David had been warming his body by the fire, such luxury he had never known in all his short life. To see the blue tips of his fingers and toes slowly turn a rosy pink was astonishing. Once he began to feel the warmth enter the core of his body he dared look around the room. Staying on the seat as he was told, he saw the wooden chairs and tables and the two windows letting in what little light that escaped the fog. He had no idea what place he was in or why he was here, but hoped it would be much better than the last place.

As he was looking about the room a noise startled him, the sound of feet and many of them. He turned towards the other side of the room down the dark hallway and could now hear voices. Soon the source of all the noise appeared before him. A line of boys, some his age, some older, were being ushered out the door by a tall man in a dark coat.

"Billy, don't pull on Henry's coat!" The man called as the last of the boys went out the door, followed by the man.

Before he could fully comprehend what he had seen the woman who had sat him down earlier, came out of the shadows of the other hallway and into the room.

"Well, David Jones, you are in luck." She had a pleasant face but there was something behind her smile. "I will show you where you are to sleep. This room is where we take tea."

Mary walked David down the hall to a few rooms which had rows of beds and in the center were a couple of tables with basins of water on top. He was shown the bed in which he would sleep and which table he was to go to in the mornings to wash up. Next he was led into the dining room and into a few rooms where the boys were taught simple Mathematics and English.

"There are a few boys who are allowed to take Latin at the church. If you prove yourself capable you may be one of them."

David, having never heard of Latin or Math was clueless as to what she was talking about. Mary went on to explain the rituals of the day. Five o'clock the boys were awakened. After washing they had their breakfast, then went to study. After studying they had lunch and after that they were given free time to spend out in the garden. After that they had their Bible lessons at the church then they returned for tea and bed.

Mary knew she had given the child too much information to process, but he looked smart and would soon pick up. She smiled down at the boy and would dearly have loved to give him a hug, but refrained from such an intimate gesture. Who knew how long this one would stay?

Shortly after the tour the boys David had seen earlier entered the orphanage to take their tea. Barley anyone noticed the new face amongst them and no one had asked any questions about the one that should have been there.

"What's your name?" A small kid about his own age asked, sitting next to him.

"David," He said, then remembered something. "David Jones."

(A/N: I've always wanted to write a Pirates fanfic but was very reluctant, seeing as I knew there was going to be three movies. Now that the third movie is out I feel more confidant. I've only seen the movie once, so if I get any information wrong, please contact me. Thanks a lot. And Thanks for the reviews!!!!!)


	3. Chapter 2

**The Rise of Davy Jones**

**Chapter Two**

The rituals of the Orphanage weren't hard to learn, for they were repetitive, day to day, and David's life now had more organization in it than it had before, but he had already begun to shut out his previous life.It only took a few weeks before he became accustomed to his new surroundings.

David was a small boy, small for his age, for there were two others who were four and both of them were much taller than he was. The three of them were the youngest boys there and sought refuge in each others company. Jake, who was almost as shy and timid as David, and Smith, who took it upon himself to teach David the ropes. At night they would share a bed, so that they might share warmth, and they clung to each other during the day for David soon learned that among the orphans was a sort of hierarchy.

William, commonly known as Billy, was the leader and it was to him, not the adults, that the orphans answered to at the end of the day. He was a tall boy around the age of twelve with a very full figure owing to the fact that he demanded a sort of food tithe from the orphans; a crust of bread here, the stew meat there. David had already learned what someone who is bigger than you and more powerful could do when they were angry. He didn't even need the warning from Smith to stay out of Billy's way.

In the classrooms the younger boys would sit in the front while the older were in the back. They were each given a slate and small piece of chalk where they would do their work and show the teacher when he asked. During English David began to learn his letters, and being a bright boy, learned to spell his own name by Spring. He especially loved, when after lessons were over, Mr. Harris would read to them from out of the Bible.

Mr. Harris was a tall, slender young man, with a beautiful tenor's voice. It was he who befriended the boys, not Mr. Younge, the old, withered man. Mr. Harris was the one who would take them on their walks and lead them to the church for their Bible studies, and when he read from the Book of Psalms David would feel his soul leave his body and touch the clouds where he imagined angels danced. There was only one other place where he felt such jubilation, and that was in church on Sundays when one of the angels themselves came down to play the organ.

Dearly loving his English lessons, and Mr. Harris, it came as no surprise when he felt the opposite for Mr. Younge. His Math lessons, accompanied by the little Geography he taught, were so boring for the boys. Mr. Younge would drone on and on about this equation or that, or talk about places David had never heard of before in far away lands. He rarely looked up from his books to see half the class asleep at their desks, and nothing he taught stuck with the boys.

Miss Mary, the woman he met the first day he arrived, was always there during tea and at prayers, before they went to bed. It was she who taught him how to pray and made sure he had an extra thick slice of bread, "To put some meat on those boys," she had laughed. He called her Mother, in his own mind, but didn't dare say it out loud. He would have been surprised to have known half the boys there thought of her as their Mother.

Mr. Grockle, on the other hand, was scarcely ever seen. David had met him a few days after he had been at the orphanage. He had a little talk with young David, explaining what would be expected of him.

"You are here by the charity of the Church." He said from behind his desk with David sitting on a chair on the other side. "The tithes of the good people in this neighborhood pay for the food in your stomach and the roof over your head, never forget that. You owe them the utmost respect. And the services of Miss Mary, Mr. Harris and Mr. Younge should not be looked down upon either. You are expected to behave while you are here and learn all that you can. Perhaps you will one day become a teacher and fill other young boys' minds with knowledge."

Smiling, Mr. Grockle got up from his chair and ushered David out of his office.

"I hope we never have to meet under unfavorable circumstances, Davy, my boy." And with that Davy left the office and began his new life.

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After lessons one evening the boys were aloud to go outside and breathe in some fresh air. The weather had started to turn and it was no longer freezing. The younger boys usually sat in circles, skipping rocks back and forth while the older boys would stand around and wrestle.

"One day I'm going to leave here and make lots of money and eat pork every day and wear fine clothes." Smith said to the others.

"I'm going to preach in church." Another boy chimed in.

Soon all the boys within hearing started talking about what they expected to do when the grew up and left the orphanage. The occupations ranged from vagabonds to kings and everything in between. Soon the older boys came closer to see what all the commotion was about.

"Well I'm going to go find my Mom." Henry said proudly, standing right behind Jake.

"How are you going to do that when you don't have one?" Billy demanded.

Henry turned quickly around, seeing that Billy wasn't interested in playing games of make belief like the younger ones. However, he also didn't want to be made to look like a coward.

"I do to have one." He said, standing a little taller.

"What she look like?" Asked Billy.

Henry thought a moment, "She's tall and pretty with dark brown hair, same as me."

"You're a liar!" Billy called out.

There was a hush amongst the boys. The boys didn't have much in the orphanage, but the one thing they did have was honor. For someone to call another a liar took a lot of guts. Fights would usually break out, for if you didn't defend your honor you were branded a liar and a coward to boot. The boys looked at the two, wondering what would happen next.

"Come along boys, time for tea." Miss Mary called from the doorway of the orphan. Billy smiled at Henry, then motioned for him to go first.

"What was that all about?" Davy asked Smith as they sat down to their tea.

Smith explained the ritual of the two boys involved going out after dark to the small square down by the church and fighting it out there. Whoever came back less bloodied was the victor, but both retained their honor.

"Do you want to see?" Smith asked.

"Yeah, sure." Davy said, excited.

When the boys went into their rooms to sleep, and the candles were blown out, a few minutes went by before Davy could hear Smith move in the bed next to him. Davy was slowly shaken awake and Smith motioned for him to be quiet. He led him to the door where he paused to make sure no one was walking around outside, then opened it.

"Follow me." Smith mouthed the words, and Davy followed.

They crept out of the orphanage and down the road, lit only by the moon. Davy could see two silhouettes down by the square and faintly hear scuffling. As they got closer, the noise got slightly louder and Davy could hear grunts and punches. Smith crept to a stack of boxes and Davy followed. There they sat, hidden in the shadows, and watched the fight. It was over almost as soon as they got there.

"I give!" Davy heard Henry say, assuming he was the figure sprawled on the ground.

"Well?" Billy asked, towering above him. "Do you have a Mother?"

"No, never did." Came the shaky voice.

Billy helped Henry up and Davy and Smith watched as they staggered back to the orphanage. Waiting until they were sure Billy and Henry were inside, Smith and Davy got up.

"That's it?" Davy asked.

"Yep, that's it." Smith began walking back. "Every once in a while Billy will do that, pick a fight with someone just to prove he's in charge. That's the first I've seen him fight Henry, though. He always chooses someone as big as he is, never picks on us little ones."

That night Davy laid awake in bed thinking about what he had seen. It wasn't the fight and blood he was thinking about, he'd seen enough of that in his life, but the precarious friendship between the two boys who fought tonight. Would he ever be big enough to have to prove his strength? Billy would probably be gone by the time he was, but would his friendship with Jake and Smith set and naught for the sake of power?

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One Sunday, Davy noticed something peculiar. It was a beautiful Spring day and the boys from the orphanage were seated on two rows of pews, waiting for the sermon to begin. The lovely organ music was playing in the background, and Davy was attempting to imagine himself flying among the clouds, but a sudden movement beside him awakened him. Mr. Harris and come to sit beside him.

"Running a little late." Mr. Harris smiled his boyish grin, and settled himself in.

Before Davy could resume his imaginings he noticed Mr. Harris craning his neck, so that he might see something far in the distance. Davy looked up, expecting to see the Pastor stand before the podium, but he was nowhere in sight. Wondering what he could be staring at, Davy happened to catch a few whispers from behind him.

"Mr. Harris is staring at her again." He could tell from the voice that it was Henry. No one spoke about the night of the fight, for both boys came back bloodied. When Miss Mary asked what happened, they both said they had fallen from their beds.

"She's not even that pretty." Billy said.

Davy looked once more ahead of him and finally discovered who it was Mr. Harris had been staring at. The angel that played the organ music was the one his favorite teacher seemed to be looking at. Davy wondered what her name was. He had seen her before on many occasions, and personally thought her very pretty. She had mousy brown hair and a pointed nose and a smallish figure. Sometimes she was at the organ on the days he came to have his Bible lessons while the older boys learned Latin.

Just then the Pastor came up to the podium and the music stopped. The girl at the organ snuck away to a seat in the front, but before she sat down she looked in the direction of Mr. Harris and gave a small smile. Davy smiled, looking up at Mr. Harris. He felt privileged to have seen that smile and be able to share something like that with Mr. Harris.

After the sermon the boys were ushered back to the orphanage. Davy walked beside Mr. Harris, while the others sped up their step to get back. On Sundays they were all treated with a small piece of pie that was usually donated to them from a parishioner.

"I love listening to the music." Davy said, trying to keep himself from smiling.

Mr. Harris looked startled out of a trance. "You do?"

"Yes, it's very pretty." Davy paused. "So is the lady who plays the organ. I wish I could play as good as she does."

"Her name is Hannah, and she does play very well."

No matter how hard Mr. Harris tried to hide the emotions within him, Davy saw the usually pale face turn a bright pink. He was beginning to understand the feelings that boys could have for girls. There were the feelings he had for Miss Mary, his surrogate Mother, and then there were the feelings Mr. Harris had for Hannah. He wanted to learn more about those feelings, ever so much more.


	4. Chapter 3

**The Rise of Davy Jones**

**Chapter Three**

The sea port wasn't very far from the orphanage. It was well into summer when Mr. Younge was asked by Mr. Grockle to take the boys out to see the ships and learn about the different lands they traveled to. "A bit of a field day would do them good," He mentioned. Very reluctantly Mr. Younge obliged his Master and took the boys out.

"They'd be much better learning inside than galavanting all over the place." Was Mr. Younge's idea. He had no love for any of the orphans and thought them all hooligans that probably wouldn't amount to much when they grew into adulthood, especially with the way Mr. Grockle and all the others coddled them. He was even forbidden to whip the boys unless he asked permission.

The walk was nice and there was a slight breeze. Miss Mary volunteered to go as well to help watch the boys. She carried with her a basket full of goodies to eat before they returned to the orphanage. They walked in two rows with Mr. Younge in front and Miss Mary in back. After about twenty minutes Davy noticed the salty tang in the air and soon afterwards could hear the lapping of the water.

"I see the ocean!" A boy in front exclaimed, and sure enough, around the next corner was the sparkling sea.

The sky was blue with a few wispy clouds overhead and the water reflected the sun, casting thousands of dazzling diamonds to shimmer of the waves. Mr. Younge stopped ahead, just before the dock, and began to explain the process of loading and unloading the ships. Davy's eyes glimmered as took it all in.

Ships of all sizes were docked along the port and there were sailors carrying cargo to and from the ships. Davy saw some baskets filled with chickens be hoisted up into the air and off the ship onto the dock. It was a very exciting place, with lots of movement and purpose. Something began to itch within himself, a sort of anticipation of what might happen.

"That's the biggest ship I ever seen." Smith said beside him.

"When have you ever seen any other ship?" Henry asked offensively.

"Once." Smith replied timidly.

"I don't think you ever saw any such ships. I think you're a liar."

The boys gasped and turned to look from Henry to Smith. Surely he didn't just challenge someone smaller and weaker than he was. A few boys turned to look at Billy to see what he would have to say about that, but he apparently hadn't heard, he was too busy looking at some girls walking by.

"Boys, pay attention." Miss Mary said, grasping at the hat on her head which was threatening to fly away in the breeze.

"Ships carrying cotton, lace and other exports of England sail to India, Africa, and the Americas. They then bring back the spices and fabrics from those land and the cycle goes on and on." Mr. Younge was explaining. "Shall we take a closer look?"

Mr. Younge led the boys closer to the docks and they all walked passed the ships. They were large and creaking in the water. Mr. Younge read the names of the ships to the boys and explained where they came from. Davy couldn't get enough of the sights and smells. He wanted to get onto one of the ships and look down from the deck.

"I think we should stop now and eat something." Miss Mary suggested and they found some benches not too far away where they sat and partook of the food within the basket.

"Henry called me a liar." Smith said as he stared at the jam tart in his hand.

"Don't worry about it." Davy said. "He was just trying to get you in trouble."

Davy had observed the workings of Billy and Henry and thought he had them pretty well deciphered. Billy was the leader because he was smarter than Henry. He knew how to get away with things. That and the fact he was a bit more stronger. Henry was dumb and had a horrible temper. Davy shuddered to think of what Henry would do if Billy ever left.

"I have to fight him," Smith continued, "It's the only way."

Before Davy could speak, Smith dropped the jam tart into the dirt, stood up and walked away. Torn between eating the jam tart and going after his friend, Davy didn't know what to do. Perhaps he could tell Miss Mary, she would understand. Picking up the jam tart and dusting it off a bit, Davy swallowed it in one bight.

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By the time they got back to the orphanage it was late and almost time for bed. Davy had forgotten all about the incident involving Smith and Henry. He was too busy picturing the ships in his mind and imagining what it would be like to sail away from Liverpool on one of them. It wasn't until the boys were told to go to bed that Davy realized Smith was no where in sight.

Waiting for the lights to go out, Davy crept out of bed and put his ear to the door. Not hearing anything, he slowly opened it.

"Hey, what are you doing?" The boy nearest to the door asked, propping himself up in bed.

"Never mind, go to sleep." Davy said.

The hall was empty. Davy tiptoed to the other side to where the other bed room was. He slowly opened that door and snuck in. He went to the nearest bed and cautiously awakened the boy.

"Which bed is Henry's?" Davy asked.

"Wha-?" The boy wiped the sleep out of his eye. "The last one, by the window." He promptly fell back onto his pillow and fell asleep.

Making sure not to make any noise, Davy headed down to the last bed and when he reached it his fears were confirmed: the bed was empty. Heart racing, not caring who he awoke, Davy ran down to the door and thrust it opened. He got to the front doors before a voice within him told him to go to Miss Mary, but he feared if he made a detour it would be too late. He ran out into the yard and sure enough, two dark figures could be seen down the lane.

Davy ran with all his might to get to the two of them, the slapping of his bare feet on the stones echoing off the buildings. He heard the unmistakable sound of a fight and got there just in time to see Henry throw a blow at Smith's head that sent him falling to the ground.

"Stop it!" Davy yelled, startling Henry. But it was too late.

Smith laid on the ground, unmoving, a huge welt on his forehead visible by the moonlight. It seemed like forever Davy was there, staring down at the only friend he had really made, with Henry breathing deeply beside him. He didn't know exactly how it happened, but he found himself in Mr. Grockle's office.

"What happened?" Mr. Grockle asked sternly.

Davy wouldn't speak. Speaking never did anyone any good. Ever.

"What happened?" Mr. Grockle yelled, causing Davy to jump in his seat, but he still refused to speak.

"Mr. James informs me that little Smith called him a liar and then lured him out of bed to attack him. Is that so?"

Desperately trying to hold back the hot tears behind his eyes, Davy wanted to yell out that he had it all wrong. But contradicting an adult was stupid and retaliation from the other orphans would be swift and hard. Silently, Davy sat before Mr. Grockle.

"Leave here." Mr. Grockle whispered.

Davy leapt off the chair and walked out of the office down to the bed rooms. He refused to speak with any one when they asked what happened. Not too many days after that Mr. Grockle was dismissed from his position and replaced with Mr. Pitt, a formidable looking man with graying whiskers and jet black hair. He had a large, hooked nose, giving him the look of a bird of prey, and the day he arrived he made a grand speech in front of the boys and staff.

"Under the supervision of Mr. Grockle you have been made allowed to run wild. It stops NOW." He yelled the last word, and eyed them all in turn. "You are not babies. I will not suffer such calamity. You," He pointed toward Billy, who wore a smug expression on his face. "Come up here."

With great pomp, Billy arose from his seat and swaggered to the front of the room. He smiled at boys, some of them daring to return the gesture. Mr. Pitt walked to a table which had a long, thin switch on it. He took it in hand and walked back to Billy.

"Bend over." Eyes wide, Billy looked at Mr. Harris and Miss Mary, hoping they would intercede, but they did not. He slowly bent over, and before he could prepare himself Mr. Pitt took three hard, swift lashings to his rear. He then ordered Billy back to his seat. "Such punishment awaits any who breaks the rules of this establishment. That is all."

The new regime was started. Mr. Pitt would frequent the classrooms to make sure there was order and demanded the teachers to use corporal punishment if anyone stepped out of line. Mr. Younge used such punishment with relish, but Mr. Harris refused. On one such occasion he had asked a question, and forgetting that Davy had taken a vow of silence, called on him for the answer.

Wide eyed, Davy looked from Mr. Harris, to Mr. Pitt.

"Answer your Master, boy." Mr. Pitt grunted.

Davy gulped, trying to wet his mouth, but it was dry and no sound would come.

"Such disobedience will not be tolerated. Mr. Harris, you must discipline your pupils."

"But sir, I do not believe that-" Mr. Harris started, but was interrupted.

"I did not ask what you believe." Pitt bellowed. "Do as I say."

Looking down at his hands, Mr. Harris couldn't imagine them causing harm to any of his students. Infuriated, Pitt stormed up to the front of the room. "Come up here, boy!" He called to Davy. Slowly, Davy walked up to him.

Pitt took the switch from the desk and roughly placed it in Mr. Harris's hand. "Three switches ought to do it."

For a brief moment Davy looked into Mr. Harris' eyes and saw the sorrow within. He wanted to tell Mr. Harris that it was okay, that he knew he didn't mean it. To show his compliance, Davy placed his hands on the teachers desk and bent down. There was a short pause before he felt the first blow stinging his rear end. The next two blows came quickly, stinging and then numbing and all the while Davy thought of Henry, who caused all these new problems, and vowed to avenge Smith.


	5. Chapter 4

**The Rising of Davy Jones**

**Chapter Four**

"Sir," Mr. Harris said as he stepped into Mr. Pitt's office.

Pitt, who had been reading over some papers looked up and motioned for Harris to sit.

"What is it, Mr. Harris." He said, setting down the papers.

"I wanted to discuss one of the boys with you." He started. "David Jones, sir, the one who is always silent."

"Ah, yes, the stubborn one." Pitt nodded his head.

Mr. Harris pursed his lips, refraining from what he would have liked to say about that comment. "All the boys, sir, have suffered trauma in their lives but I think David is frail and can't handle the pressures of life as well as the others. Before you came here his friend died and it was since then he's been quiet."

"Is there a point to this story?" Pitt asked emotionless.

"Yes, sir, I was hoping to introduce a talent to him so that he could express himself through a medium other than words."

"And that would be..."

"Organ playing." Mr. Harris smiled but noticed Pitt wasn't interested in playing games. "Well, sir, I happen to know the young lady who plays the organ for the church where the older boys take Latin and she said she'd be more than happy to teach the young boy how to play." Mr. Harris waited.

Mr. Pitt wasn't a mean man, not really. He was practical and had no patience for those who were impractical. He took up the post of Director of the orphanage because the percentage of boys who turned into street thugs was too high and he was aiming to change that, anyway possible. He couldn't see how organ playing would keep those numbers down, but the boy was still too young to learn Latin and that time was wasted.

"That is fine, he may learn how to play the organ." Pitt said. Mr. Harris was speechless. He had expected to argue with the man, to win him over, perhaps. "But if he is found lagging in his other classes, then no more."

Mr. Harris agreed, and got out of the office as fast as he could in case Pitt changed his mind.

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Davy kept up his silence. Mr. Harris understood and accommodated him, but Mr. Younge, whenever feeling a need to vent emotions, called on Davy for an answer, knowing Davy would not answer, and use that as an excuse to whip him. Miss Mary was shocked and wished she could do something, but this sort of punishment was acceptable to most people she knew.

During the boys' free time Davy chose to stay inside, either in the bed room or with Mr. Harris in the class room. Mr. Harris would talk to Davy while preparing the next days lesson or putting books away. He'd talk about places he'd been to and people he'd met and while he talked Davy stared up at him in wide eyed admiration. He had made the conscious effort not to form a friendship between the other boys but hadn't anticipated a friendship forming between himself and Mr. Harris, which is exactly what was happening.

"Where did you get that?" Davy asked as Mr. Harris came into the class room carrying a small model of a ship.

"I've been making it at home." Mr. Harris replied, showing Davy.

The ship was very beautifully built with a real canvas sail. Mr. Harris began explaining the different parts and functions of the ship and how he had built this one. Davy was intrigued and all during the rest of the class couldn't keep his eyes off the ship as it sat atop Mr. Harris's desk. After the lesson was over and the boys began to get ready for Mr. Younge, Mr. Harris called Davy back.

"You once told me you liked to hear the organ music at church." He started. Seeing the confusion in the boy's eyes he continued. "How would you like to learn how to play that music?"

The confused expression on Davy's face slowly turned into happiness. Could it be true? Would he one day be able to play that beautiful music himself? He pictured himself sitting at the organ, running his hands along the keys, and feeling the music deep with himself.

"I thought you'd like it." Mr. Harris said, bringing Davy back from his dream. "You may start your lessons with Hannah tomorrow while the other boys learn their Latin. I expect you to play something for me one day."

Davy left the class room filled with hope. Nothing Mr. Younge could to do him today would take away that joy. He also felt a sort of smugness stemming from a secret within him. While Mr. Harris was showing him the ship he noticed the name it had written on the stern. "Hannah." No one else seemed to have noticed it, but Davy did.

He kept the secret to himself the rest of the day, and Mr. Younge, upset that David Jones had something to smile about, called on him for an answer.

"If I had three barrels of apples with approximately fifty apples each, and I sold thirty six how many apples would I have left, Mr. Jones?"

Davy smiled, but remained silent.

"Come up here." Mr. Younge was already going for the switch when he noticed Davy wasn't moving. "I said, come--"

"One hundred and fourteen." Davy said.

Heads turned, surprised Davy spoke, even more surprised he knew the answer. He hadn't said a word in over three months, why today, of all days, did he choose to answer? Mr. Younge stood at the front of the room, mouth hung open, switch falling from his hand.

"That...that is correct." Mr. Younge finally said, then continued with the lesson, giving three other boys hard whippings in Davy's stead.

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For some reason the church Davy stepped into felt more holy than it had ever felt to him before. He could faintly hear the scuffling of feet as the others walked towards the rooms in the back, but his full attention was on the huge organ before him. Seated upon the stool in front of it was Hannah, the angel who would be teaching him the art of making it sing.

"Hello Davy, Mr. Harris has told me much about you." Hannah smiled, turning towards the small boy. "I am glad that you like the music I play and I'd love to teach you how to play it yourself."

Awestruck by such generosity and beauty, Davy timidly stepped forward. Hannah explained how the organ worked, pointing to the two large foot pedals on the floor that had to constantly be pumped by the feet while playing. She explained that each key had a different note and that it pumped air through the pipes, causing the tone and pitch. She played a short piece for Davy so that he could see up close how it was done.

"That was very pretty." Davy smiled when it was finished.

"Come here." Hannah held her hand out for Davy to take it. She pulled him closer to her and the instrument. "I'm going to pump the pedals, for I fear you are too small yet to reach them, and I want you to push down on this key three times."

Hannah began pumping the pedals with her feet and slowly Davy pointed his finger and let it fall onto the key three times, causing the note to ring through the rafters.

"That was perfect!" Hannah clapped, then gave Davy a hug.

Davy froze. He had never been hugged before, by anyone. It was warm and soft and the smell coming from Hannah's clothes was divine, which caused him to remember something.

"Oh, Mr. Harris asked if I would give this to you." He pulled from his pocket a folded piece of parchment.

Hannah's cheeks grew red as she took the parchment and unfolded it. Her blush deepened as she read the words.

"Davy, our lesson is almost over for today. I'm going to go in the back room and while I'm gone you may try to pump the pedals to get a feel for them, okay?" Davy nodded his head and watched as Hannah slipped behind a curtain.

The pedals were hard to push down, but Davy put all his strength into it and after about two minutes began to feel tired. It was then that Hannah came back out, holding another piece of folded parchment.

"Will you please give this to Mr. Harris?" She asked, handing it to him.

"Yes." Davy felt it the least he could do for this angel who was bestowing on himself such a gift.

Thanking Hannah, Davy left the church, shortly behind the other boys. Making sure no one was looking Davy perused the letter. He hadn't meant to, not intentionally. He had just been confused when he was about to leave the orphanage for his first lesson when Mr. Harris handed him the piece of paper when no one was around and asked him to deliver it to Hannah. He had been to stunned on the way to the church to think of reading his letter, but now that he had his wits about him he unfolded it and read.

In the few months David had been at the orphanage he lapped up the lessons on his letters and was able to read quite a bit of it, but there were many words that were foreign to him. Reading from what he could understand, he realized it was a very private letter, one not meant for him to read. David didn't quite understand the relationship a man and woman could have, but he was about to receive a lesson in love.

(A/N: Hey everyone, it's me! I finally got another chapter out. This week is going to be busy so I don't know if I'll be getting another one out before next week. I appreciate everyone putting the story on their favorites list but it really helps an author out to read reviews, so if you could find some time to post something, even if it's just something small, just so I can know what's good, what's not, and what needs to be changed. Thanks again!!!)


	6. Chapter 5

**The Rising of Davy Jones**

**Chapter Five**

Davy continued to pass the letters between the two lovers every day he had his organ lessons. Hannah would ask him to practice the skills she instructed him on the day before while she read and replied to the latest letter and then just before their lesson was over handed him the folded up piece of parchment and asked that it be returned to Mr. Harris. Aside from the first letter, Davy never allowed his curiosity to tempt him to read the notes. He was beginning to understand the privacy and secrecy that surrounded the letters, and having the utmost respect for Mr. Harris and admiration for Hannah, never told another soul about those letters.

The winter months were coming upon them again and with it the diseases. Davy had been at the orphanage for almost a year and couldn't remember much about his time before that. In December, just before Christmas, a large donation of jackets and shoes were given to the children and Davy had his first wool sweater, two sizes too big, and a second hand pair of shoes. Henry, of course, got the best.

Billy had gone away from the orphanage in mid November and was apprenticed out to some shop, which left the role of leader unoccupied. There were two or three other boys as big, if not bigger, than Henry and he knew he could not assume such a role through brute strength. So he found another way to do it.

It seems Mr. Pitt was very easily flattered and after having found this out, Henry used it to his advantage. He kept praising the man for the good work he was doing with the boys, for his discipline which had been sorely lacking. Mr. Pitt, with a smile, rewarded Henry with a few perks such as first pick with the donated items. Another such perk was his trust. If Henry wanted to get another boy in trouble, he would set up a situation in which it made the boy look back and be eye witness to such a scene that would cause Mr. Pitt use his favorite means of punishment...the whip.

From then on the boys understood that Henry had inherited Billy's role of leader, and it went unquestioned.

On a cold day in January Mr. Harris escorted the boys to the church for the Latin lessons and Bible study, but for Davy his organ lessons. It was unusual for Mr. Harris to stay at the church, he would often return to the orphanage to clean up the class room, but today, after making sure the other boys were behind closed doors, he walked Davy into the chapel where Hannah was waiting, red cheeked and bright eyed.

"Hello, Mr. Harris." She said with a small smile.

"Hello, Miss Hannah."

Davy ignored the strange behavior between the two of them and sat right in front of the organ on the stool and began to practice the piece he had been working on the day before. While he was practicing he could hear Mr. Harris and Hannah whispering a they sat on the pew closest to the organ. He didn't very much care about their conversation, but it was distracting him from his playing.

"Well, I'm off, Davy. Mind Miss Hannah." Mr. Harris squeezed Davy's shoulder, then left the building.

"How was that?" Davy asked, finishing the piece.

"That was perfect, Davy." Hannah said coming to stand beside him.

"What do you two talk about?" Davy asked curiously.

"We talk about many things, Davy, most of which are too grown up for a boy such as you."

"Do you love each other?" Davy had a vague understanding of the word love, but from what he gathered, Mr. Harris and Hannah showed all the signs of it.

"Have you ever read," Hannah started after thinking the question over, "the play Romeo and Juliet?" Davy shook his head. "It is a story of two young people who love each other very much, but whose families would not be happy with them if they were to marry. That is sort of how it is with Mr. Harris and I."

"You have families?" Davy asked, bewildered. He didn't think he knew anyone who had parents and siblings.

"Yes, I have a Father and Mother and Mr. Harris as a Father. I come here to volunteer my time at the permission of my Father, but he wants me to go away to school in France. If my Father knew about Mr. Harris I would never be able to see him again."

"What about Mr. Harris, does his Father not want you to marry?"

"Mr. Harris's Father, I think, would not have a problem with it."

"What would happen if you were to get married?" Davy asked, puzzled by all the secrecy.

"I do not know."

Hannah began the days instructions and teaching him a new piece to play. By the time their lesson was over Davy could hear the boys in the back troop out into the cold outside. Davy was about to leave when he remembered something.

"The story you told, Romeo and Juliet, what happened to them?"

Hannah looked as if she was reluctant to say, but replied, "They married in secret and then at the end...they both died."

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Around the end of February the orphanage was bombarded by the influenza. The children were kept inside and fed hot soup and tea and those who were sick slept in one room while those who weren't were in the other. Davy caught the influenza and was so sick he couldn't raise himself from his bed. Mr. Harris came to see him at least once a day and informed him of Miss Hannah's well wishes.

Many children died that month as well as Miss Mary. Davy didn't even discover that piece of news until he and the survivors began to return to health a few weeks later. It had been a horrible loss for the boys. No longer did they have a Mother figure to fuss over them and coddle them.

Once Davy was well enough to resume his lessons, Mr. Pitt decided it was time the boy began his lessons in Latin. No longer was he able to retreat into the chapel and run his fingers along the wooden keys of the organ, or bring out such beautiful music from its pipes. Latin was very distasteful to Davy and when he learned that the langugae he was learning was no longer spoken, he grew sullen.

"I have an important job for you, Davy." Mr. Harris said quietly as the two of them walked behind the other boys as they made their way to the church one Sunday. "I have a note here in my hand and I want you to take it and give it to Miss Hannah before she leaves, all right?"

Davy nodded his head and took the note from Mr. Harris and put it in his pocket. The sermon seemed to go on forever and Davy couldn't find the patience to listen to any of the words. He was too curious as to what the letter contained. It seemed much more important than any of the other letters ever had been. As soon as the last notes of the organ rang out into the chapel and the other boys were getting up to go back to the orphanage, Davy slipped the paper out of his pocket and started walking down the isle towards Miss Hannah.

"What do you think you're doing?" Someone grabbed the note from Davy and he turned around to see Henry, unfolding the paper.

"Give that here!" Davy shouted, reaching for the paper, but Henry was holding it too high from him to grab it.

"I think Mr. Pitt should take a look at this." Henry said after reading the first few lines. Grabbing Davy by the arm he dragged Davy with him to where Mr. Pitt was talking with a gentleman in the back. "Mr. Pitt, I found Davy carrying this letter and it seems awfully suspicious to me."

Mr. Pitt, frowning, took the note from Henry and read over it. "Where did you get this letter, young man?" Mr. Pitt asked, staring down at Davy.

Keeping his lips sealed tight, Davy refused to answer.

"I saw Mr. Harris hand it to Davy, sir." Henry supplied the needed information.

"I shall have to deal with this. Go back to the orphanage, boys."

Davy couldn't believe he had failed both Miss Hannah and Mr. Harris. Whatever was in the letter caused Mr. Pitt to look extremely vexed. He wondered what would happen. And it all came back to Henry. Never since Smith's death had Davy wanted to hurt Henry so much. As they walked back Davy's head was filled with horrific ideas, ideas he had never thought before, but which caused him to smile.

Mr. Harris and Mr. Younge never taught on Sundays and therefore Davy had no idea where to go to warn Mr. Harris. He especially couldn't go back and warn Miss Hannah, it might lead Mr. Pitt directly to her. So Davy waited, until night fell, before he crept out of his bed. Since his health returned he had been sleeping in the same room as Henry, and knew his bed to be near the window. Davy crept towards the bed and could see Henry's face in the moonlight which glimmered through the window. Henry stirred in his sleep and Davy kept still until all was silent.

Thinking of Smith and Hannah and Mr. Harris, Davy took the heavy jug of water which rested on the table at the foot of the beds and brought it back to Henry's bed. Holding it high over his head, Davy closed his eyes and with all his might brought it down on Henry's head. A loud thud echoed in the room and a scream broke the silence. Over and over again Davy hit Henry with the jug until his little arms were too tired to hold it. By the time he was finished there was blood everywhere and Henry's face unrecognizable.

Slowly Davy registered that the rest of the boys were screaming and the door at the other end of the room swung open. Davy turned to see Mr. Pitt enter the room, along with Miss Nelly, the woman who replaced Miss Mary. Knowing exactly what he was going to do, Davy ran to the window, opened it and jumped out onto the street below.

It was cold out and it seeped into his lungs as he ran down the street, his bare feet slapping the stones. Knowing exactly where he was going, Davy made the necessary turns, never looking back, and soon he could hear the water and smell the salty sea air. He was finally there, at the dock, with the might ships moored and creaked with each little wave. A few people were walking along the dock and Davy ran to the nearest ship. A thick, heavy rope was tied to the dock that went up to the ship and deftly Davy clung onto the rope and began to climb up it until he landed on the ships deck.

Making sure no one could see him, Davy ran to the other side of the ship, took a long glance out to sea where the moon was reflecting off the waters, rippling before him, and then he found himself a place to hide among some barrels, and he waited.

(Sorry the chapter is so long, but finally he's on a ship, right? I wonder how he comes to be captain????)


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